September 22

"This I say then, Walk in the Spirit."—Galatians 5:16.

LIFE in the Holy Spirit is a Walk. Patient, steadfast, plodding, through grey days and gold, amid the snow of January and the sun of June and the dull dark fogs of the waning year—He, He alone, makes me so, and enables me to persevere to the end, one who never turns his back but marches breast forward. It is a glorious and divine achievement. It is a grander thing to walk resolutely and untiringly on than to mount up with the wings of an eagle.

Life in the Holy Spirit is a Harvest. Blessed be His mighty grace, from my wilderness heart, where the works of the flesh grew as unsightly and poisonous weeds, He brings forth the sweet and wholesome fruits of the heavenly country. I have only to trust Him simply and daily, and the desert that is in me will rejoice and blossom. Science tells me that Spitzbergen may one day bud like an orchard in Devon or a vineyard in Italy; but the dreams of science are the perpetually repeated facts in the Book of the Holy Ghost.

But Life in the Holy Spirit is a Crucifixion also. He nails me on a cross—not a vicarious cross, like my redeeming Saviour's, but one that is sore and sharp to my natural mind. My flesh, my old darling sins, my pride, my wilfulness, my former self—He pierces and kills them all; until I bear branded on my body the very Stigmata of Jesus.

Shall I have Him, when He will cost me so much? Yes, I long for Him, more and more. There are sufferers who fare better than all the children of pleasure and mirth; and, please God, I shall enroll myself among them.